Excerpts
by QuickenMyEnd
Summary: For the 221b challenge. 6. Belay- getting in was the easy part 7. Beckon- he didn't like it, but he would follow regardless 8. Tag to The Eligible Bachelor, slight spoilers
1. Back

Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock Holmes

AN: I thought I'd try my hand at the 221b challenge. I fairly recently have rediscovered Sherlock Holmes and thought I'd try my hand at a drabble (or two).

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Holmes had never been fond of the fairer sex. I must admit, I could become quite exasperated with his mistrust, founded or unfounded. Now, at least, I do not doubt his mistrust of the servant of Lady Catherine, and indeed Lady Catherine herself, and if I had shared his opinion of the two ladies- and I use that term quite loosely- I would have saved myself a good deal of trouble.

Holmes was off questioning the lady of the house, after instructing me to stay in the parlor and see what I could find. Neither of us truly anticipated the danger of the situation, though I suspect Holmes did better then I. I only glanced up when the servant girl entered the room. She greeted me politely enough, and I paid her no mind as she went about her duties.

I stood at the mantel, examining a portrait when she came up behind me. I started to turn, intending on asking her just who the subject was, but was shoved hard toward the fireplace. Cracking my head on the mantel, I stared up dazed at her.

"What…?"

"I do as my lady commands, Doctor" she said, her tone cool but with a flash of excited fire in her eyes.

"Watson!"

I heard Holmes' cry just before the knife entered my back.


	2. Brother

Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock Holmes.

AN: Not a continuation of the first chapter, but I won't leave that hanging too long, either in another drabble here or a one shot of its own. I have one more planned in the immediate future, and all three are excerpts of slightly longer things I'm planning.

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"Watson?" The sitting room door banged open and Holmes stuck his head out into the hallway to peer up at me. I slowly straightened from where I was slumped against the wall opposite my door in an attempt to ease some of his worry as he hurried up the stairs to my side.

"I hadn't meant to wake you," I offered somewhat weakly as he helped me up fully and waved off my statement.

"That would only occur if I had been sleeping," he said brusquely, examining me closely, "What happened to your neck?"

I put a hand to my throat, flinching slightly at the tenderness there. I closed my eyes briefly as the image of my dream came back.

"_Give me the watch, John." My brother's face floated in front of mine, looming eerily in the dim light._

"_Andrew…?"_

"_The watch! Give it to me!" His hand closed around my throat. "Where is it!"_

"_I-" _

"Watson."

I blinked once then twice, dragged from my thoughts at Holmes' voice. He was at my bedroom window, peering at the sill and floor beneath.

"I'm sorry, Holmes, I just had the most disturbing dream."

"The war?" he asked somewhat cautiously, returning to my side.

"No," I replied softly, wondering how my throat was so sore even now, "No, I dreamt of my brother."


	3. Bedlam

Disclaimer: I don't own any of it

AN: 3rd piece of what will be a different story then the other two. I promise there will be longer parts of all of them!

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It was most unlike Watson to be this late. Holmes stalked the room. He would have to leave regardless, any later would delay his plans to catch the blackmailers in action and throw away three weeks worth of work if they realized he was on their trail.

He did not return until dawn. He retired to his bedroom to change the makeshift bandages, not wishing to wake Watson. It was only after he'd allowed himself an hour's rest that he saw that the upstairs room was empty.

"Mrs. Hudson!" he bellowed down the stairs, "When did Watson leave this morning?"

"Leave?" she called from the hall, "I hadn't been aware he'd returned last night."

He frowned, "I'm going out." Throwing on his coat, he hurried down the stairs and was out before she could reply.

It stood to reason that if there had been some sort of accident, word would have been sent. Had he walked home, however, there were many more opportunities to waylay the good doctor.

"Why Mr. Holmes, the messenger reached you?" Lestrade looked rather surprised.

"No," he replied shortly, glancing around the scene, "I'm rather busy, if you're going to tell me what is going on regardless, then make it quick!"

"Why, Mr. Holmes, I thought you knew. This is where the patient escaped going to Bedlam."


	4. Boswell

Disclaimer: I still don't own any of it.

AN: inspired by The Fool's Hope Power of the Pen and the discarded letters to Watson during the hiatus, and also written as a prompt from my best friend Paxie (Gallifreian Traveler)

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My Dear Watson,

Kindly be sure that you are seated before you read any farther. I regret to inform you that you have been very misinformed. The fault here lies with me, but it is something that I really must rectify. The incident at Reichenbach Falls did not end quite in the way that your writing states. Namely, I am not dead. I am sure that a number of things are going through your mind, but I will attempt to address some of the major concerns. This is not a hoax, though if you need confirmation, a message to Mycroft should ease your mind. Mycroft was told, however I meant no slight to you in not informing you of the… altered state of events. I do not fault your acting techniques; however your reaction had to be the most genuine of all for my deception to be believed. Mycroft sequesters himself away often enough that should he somehow manage to slip up in his portrayal of a grieving brother, something he has already threatened to make genuine should I dally in my task and return, it would not be nearly so noticable. You have quite thankfully had the support of your wife throughout these years, and while I was never fully supportive of her presense in the past, my dear Boswell-


	5. Boring

Disclaimer: Don't own any of it.

AN: continuation of the first drabble! Didn't want to leave that hanging too much longer. Also, it's occurred to me this is sort of a response to the first injury challenge...

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"Watson, can you hear me?" If I had had the presence of mind to do so, I would have informed him that the knife had cut into my back and not my ear, but I rather believe Holmes would not have appreciated my sense of humor at that particular moment in time. As it was, I was more focused on the burning line across my back and the sudden firm pressure over the top of it that made me gasp. The pressure began to lift slightly, to my dismay.

"No…" I was slightly bothered by how my voice sounded, but lying prone bleeding on a hearth does even less for ones dignity.

"No you cannot hear me?" Holmes sounded puzzled, "Then how on earth…"

"Pressure, keep up the pressure." Holmes and I would be having a discussion on basic first aid as soon as we returned to our rooms, hopefully without much more blood loss on my part. The pressure increased and I stifled a groan.

"Stay where you are," Holmes said sharply and it took a moment for me to register he was speaking to whoever had moved to the door.

I panted slightly while allowing the physician that had been summoned attend to the stitches, "With you, my dear Holmes, I see things are rarely going to be boring."


	6. Belay

Disclaimer: Don't own it

I really did get into the most unusual of situations during my times with Holmes. The case of which I speak so far involved missing jewels, a cat and a feather. The details are more than I am able to get into, due to requests of the client. The conclusion, however, is something I must write up immediately.

I had, at Holmes's request, endeavored to be allowed access to the house of a young lady being held against her will. I am still uncertain as to how it fit, but I was not about to question it. Getting in was not a hard task, for I knew physician of the girl, and he was quite willing to allow me to take his place for the day. After spurning the attentions of two persistent beggars, I was allowed in.

Holmes had mentioned the existence of a guard. He had rather underrated the size and willingness for violence however. Upon moving down the hall to the girl's chambers, I was grabbed roughly by the looming figure.

"I have my orders to make sure you don't get any farther, Doctor Watson." My attempts to pull away did little and I did not fancy a beating or worse.

"That is one order," Holmes said coolly, from behind us, "That I really must insist you belay."


	7. Beckon

Disclaimer: still don't own it

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"I don't like this, Holmes," I whispered warily, "Not at all."

"It's perfectly safe," he insisted, waving off my objections once more, "We're doing nothing more dangerous tonight then looking in a window."

'Perfectly safe' did not include the guard dogs he had mentioned earlier, along with the fact that the men we were here to spy on were most certainly very well armed. They were not the type to look kindly on people that tried to disrupt their smuggling, and besides that, neither of us were dressed to be inconspicuous in this area.

To say that I was feeling very poorly about this plan was an understatement, but I was not about let him go alone. With the luck we had been having as of late, the dogs would turn up and raise the whole house in alarm.

"Just a quick look to confirm my suspicions…" He was saying it more to himself then me as he hopped over the low fence, crouching below the level of the window as he made his way across the open way.

I stuck to the shadows, glancing about briefly, thinking there were quite a few ways this could go wrong, and trying to convince myself I did not hear the howl of dogs in the distance.

Nevertheless, I hurried over at his beckon.


	8. Better

Tag to The Eligible Bachelor, spoilers for part of the ending. Still can't decide whether I liked it or not, but my muse popped back in for this little drabble, so it wasn't all bad.

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"Tell me you are not still ruminating on the death of that… man."

I glanced up from my desk to look at Holmes where he stood with his back to me, staring at the mantle.

"Really now, my dear Watson, it's simply obvious what's been occupying your thoughts these last few days."

Sighing, I looked back at my journal in an attempt to stall answering him.

"He had that and quite a deal more coming to him, you know."

I scowled at the paper, "Have you ever seen the effects of a man mauled by a large cat?" I sensed more than saw him turn toward me. "The sight and sound are most unpleasant. If it was really necessary for him to die in that house, a clean kill shot should have occurred, rather than simply wounding him enough to help him become prey."

"He was a murderer; you needn't waste any time on some misplaced guilt on his manner of death. Surely he had none for the woman he killed." Perhaps he was not the best to debate this point, so set in his own frame of mind on the matter, but knowing a man died suffering greatly partly because of my doing did not sit well with me. I ignored the fact that little could have made it better.

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AN: I know Watson didn't actually see him mauled, just heard it, but there wasn't enough words for backstory here


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